


Mari!!! on Ice

by powerdragonmoon



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Alternate Universe - Non-Magical, F/M, Fluff and Angst, Ice Skating, Miraculous Ladybug AU, Mostly Fluff, Yuri!!! on Ice AU, figure skating, figure skating AU
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-11
Updated: 2017-01-23
Packaged: 2018-09-07 20:38:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 14,480
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8815513
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/powerdragonmoon/pseuds/powerdragonmoon
Summary: Marinette Dupain-Cheng has been figure skating for almost as long as she's been able to walk, and now as a seasoned competitive skater she embarks on performing on the world stage. The only troubles are getting over her nerves, especially when she qualifies for her first ever Senior Grand Prix Final! Will she be able to standout among the best skater's in the world or will she  succumb to the pressure?





	1. Prologue

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why do I do this to myself? This is just a plot bunny that won’t set me free!!! So I’m writing it. This is a Yuri!!! On Ice AU, that show is amazing! 
> 
> Plus, I just watched the Christmas Special and I thought I'd share this in celebration! Merry Christmas and Happy Holidays!!

Her blades cut across the ice, tracing glittering trails behind her. Picking up speed on her backward crossovers, she poised herself on one foot, bending at her knee to emphasize the deep edge of her skate against the ice as she moved seamlessly into her final combination spin. Each movement played out in time with the gentle piano notes that layered over a rousing echo of strings. And even gentler still, behind the hushed tones of the song, a distance pitter-patter of percussion, mimicked the sound of rain.

Totally lost in her performance, Marinette gracefully transitioned through the positions of her spin, her back arched down towards her skate that had come off the ice. Her arms reached up towards the sky, curving elegantly above her for a moment, before fluttering gently as if she were picking stars from the sky. Even as she felt herself grow taller, she pushed herself to lean further down towards the ice. Eventually, she brought her hands to her chest, still spinning in place. Shifting again, her hands reached out to her sides, the movement causing her to become a pale pink blossom blooming on the ice.

Faster and faster, she turned. The music of her program slowly getting drowned out by the growing tides of applause. Yet the slow build up of cheers and adulation went unnoticed by Marinette. She continued her spin, anchoring herself with a hand reaching back to grab the blade of her skate. Marinette further showcased her flexibility bringing her leg up and behind her into the air, until both her hands were held above her, holding up her bowed leg, forming a teardrop shape with her body. She became a spinning lantern on ice.

This added fuel to the crowd’s growing excitement. From within the packed audience, one by one spectators began to stand. Still Marinette felt the music in her limbs. She could feel the exact timing of the crescendoing notes that had been so lovingly written for her spell out across her skin.

Marinette softly dropped out from the Biellmann position, twirling a few more times in flourish before exiting the spin. Her arms reached out as she glided backwards, before coming to a full stop at the last note of the piano, one that was completely overwhelmed by the standing ovation surrounding her. As whispers of orchestral notes faded into the crowd’s booming cheers, Marinette reached out towards the perimeter of the ice, to where she knew the judges were watching. In her mind she saw herself reaching forward, tentatively and shyly accepting a generous offer of an umbrella on a rainy day, before bringing her hand back to her chest, her head bending down, her eyes closing as she held her final pose.

The action seemed to ignite the crowd even further with its thunderous applause.

And still, Marinette held her position, caught up in the adrenaline in her veins. Her breath came out in quick short gasps, cold air uncomfortably filling up her lungs. Her throat, much like the rest of the muscles of her body burned. And yet, for the first time in a competitive skate, her mind felt at ease. Her body was more than used to going through these motions, and for once her nerves had not gotten the best of her.

Time seemed to slow as she her body worked to catch her breath. This allowed for a brief moment of reflection, a pause for reverie. She had come here with a list of objectives and ambitions. And as she opened her eyes and took in the sight before her, she realized that she had done what she needed and so desperately wanted to do. She had skated her best.

Marinette stared up into the stands as she made her way back to center ice. She thought back to her list of goals and all the checks that she had gone through with each component of her free skate. As she came to a stop, her eyes briefly flickered to the entrance doors, hoping to be rewarded with some sort of teasing wink or good-natured smile that she had come to expect. However all she caught was the noticeable absence of a certain someone. 

Her brow wrinkled for a moment in a mix of confusion and disappointment before she returned to waving out enthusiastically to the crowd. She turned, looking past the adorable flower sweepers as they collected bouquets and gifts from the ice. 

_Where was he?_

Slightly concerned, she curtsied before the crowd. Eventually, on her last turn she was able to catch the sight of her friends and family. She could easily spot the massive presence of her father, an arm wrapped around her mother by his side. Despite the heavy tears falling from her father’s face, they both beamed with bright, proud smiles. Her mother’s hands held up and waved a faded quilt – one of Marinette’s first successful sewing projects; on it her name was stitched out in black against a snowflaked background. Dr. Fu stood beside them, clapping; a cane tucked under one of his arms. Marinette’s vision blurred, as she blinked back tears of joy. And again her eyes flickered back to the door, her distracted gaze moving back in forth from the crowd and to searching the rink’s border for someone. 

Taking in the loud applause and cheers, Marinette made one final bow to the audience. Offering up her best smile in gratitude, she waved, pondering the one final goal on her mind. 

Marinette spun slowly, looking around her. She stared past the press area, across the judging panel, and back to the designated exit off the ice. It was then that she finally caught a familiar flash of green. Her heart fluttered, seeming to forget about the past exertion of her program on her body. 

As she skated towards him, she took in his dishevelled state; his wide eyes, flushed cheeks, messy hair, and mouth slightly agape. Her brows furrowed for a quick moment, as she pressed her lips together, trying to make sense of his appearance, before she burst out with a bubbly giggle.

He had said before that she was full of surprises. And as she glided on the ice towards him, she idly wondered if she had lived up to his words. Or if he knew, that he in turn never failed to surprise her.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You may of noticed – or not – that I’ve been on a little writing hiatus (life, travelling, new job, constant procrastination, excuses, excuses...), so leave me words of encouragement if you like this and it’ll motivate me to keep writing!


	2. First Impressions – Marinette’s First Grand Prix Final! The Short Program!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prologue was cool and all… but how did we get there…?

Marinette breathed out a sigh of relief. Her first skate at a Senior Grand Prix Final was done, and it was one of her cleanest skates of the season! Sure, maybe she under rotated her triple Lutz, but she landed it clean! It was a major accomplishment, yet still, she mentally cringed as she tried calculating the possible reduction to the base value of her jump, knowing it would affect her marks.

Taking in another deep breath, Marinette averted her attention back to the welcoming crowd in front of her. She smiled wide and waved, only for her nerves to come thundering back as she stared at the judging panel. No doubt they were going over her triple Lutz with a magnifying glass – combing through her entire program for faults. Fighting back the shakes and aches of her bones, she turned away and glided towards the boards. A flash of pink caught her eye on the ice and she bent down to pick up a pretty bouquet of flowers. Accented against the rosy, peach petals stood a small French flag, poking up proudly from in between the flower stems.

Her coach, Ryan, beamed at her as she arrived to the boards, giving her a pat on the shoulder before handing her her skate guards. Once her blades were covered and she was off the ice, Ryan wrapped her up in a brief side hug, leading her towards the kiss and cry. He offered her a jacket and some quick words of encouragement, adding in some phrases in French about what a good job she had done. “Excellent presentation. Well done,” he repeated over and over like a mantra.

“Remember what we spoke about in practice? You have to watch your free leg on the triple toe combination, it was a little high,” he remarked, “but that double axel was fantastic! Well done!” He continued on, delving into her edge work on her step sequence.

Marinette nodded along, accepting her water bottle from her coach, not quite following all his notes as he started to get more technical with his jargon in regards to her program. She took a quick swig from her water bottle, before depositing it on the ground below her.

Ryan had a tendency to talk very fast, and today he spoke quickly, more so than ever as he had just a moment’s time before he had to turn to get his next student ready for the ice. As he wrapped up his last comment, he gave Marinette another swift pat on the back before excusing himself to assist Chloe onto the ice.

Sometimes it was a challenge to have to share her coaches with other skaters, but Marinette just felt lucky to have Ryan as a coach to begin with. He was very successful as both a coach and former skater. Not only was he knowledgeable about the sport, but he had the added experience of understanding what it as like to compete, having won two Olympic silver medals himself and earning a World Championship gold during his career. And the same could be said for his counterpart, Cheryl, Marinette’s secondary coach and choreographer. Together, the two ran one of the most prestigious figure skating clubs in North America.

And so Marinette sat down, turning to see if Cheryl would be joining her. However, it seemed that both she and Ryan were plenty preoccupied giving Chloe a quick pep talk, which was fair since Marinette had taken both of their time before her program. Giving a small smile and wave to them, Marinette set down her flowers beside her and zipped up her jacket. She stared up to the crowd catching a view of herself on the arena’s screen. Shyly laughing at her flushed appearance, Marinette turned to look the camera in front of her.

She smiled wide, despite her nerves, and wondered if her parents were home watching. She waved at the camera lens, before bringing her hands to her chest, forming the shape of a heart. Looking back to her flowers she plucked the miniature flag from its depths and turned back to the camera, waving the flag back and forth with a timid grin on her face.

She waited for her scores. Fidgeting in her seat, she placed her flag back into her bouquet, before reaching into her jacket pocket to grab her gloves. Again smiling at the camera she bowed her head down as she slowly put them on. Once she was done she hoped to look up to see her scores splashed out across the screen above her, but alas time seemed to crawl forward at a snail’s pace. On the screen played replays of her skate and Marinette stuffed her gloved hands into the pale blue fabric of her dress gripping the delicate chiffon layers uneasily as she watched herself spin onscreen.

Left by herself and in relative silence, Marinette thought back to her short program, going over each element as they replayed in front of her. She knew her degree of difficulty was fairly low in comparison to the other skaters, so it was important that she skated perfectly today.

She hoped she had done well enough.

Still, she tried to remember what Ryan and Cheryl had said, it was quite the accomplishment to just make it to the Grand Prix Finals for the first time. For the first time in history, a French woman had made it. No matter what the results, Marinette had done well to get here, marking her place in French figure skating history. She nodded her head as if she was still trying to force herself to agree with the fact.

Because, try as she might, Marinette felt the need to do well, to have some validation for all her hard work and training. It used to be enough for her to just enjoy skating, to marvel at the speed at which she could reach gliding across the ice; the feeling of flight during her jumps; the moments where she carved out her presence on the ice, moving to the beat of a song inside her. But with that, also came a hunger. Much like her sketches and designs, she wanted to excel. To create something that would have a purpose and that could possibly inspire others.

This was her second season competing on the senior circuit and she already felt like she was falling behind to the back of the pack. If she wanted to stay competitive – to continue to skate on the world scale– she would have to excel before someone younger and better overtook her. And now because she represented her country, her coaches, and her family, she had so much to prove and she wanted to succeed, if anything in respect to all the sacrifices and help she had received during her career.

“The scores please…” echoed a voice throughout the stadium. And Marinette’s heart stopped. Her eyes focused back up towards the screen, waiting for her scores to appear underneath her televised reflection. “Marinette Dupain-Cheng…”

The announcer continued on in Spanish, but it was quickly drowned out by the polite applause of the audience. Although this was all lost to Marinette who was silently absorbing her scores.

Two letters flashed up beside her score, “SB”.

“Season’s best,” Marinette whispered in awe, her lips turning upwards, the sunrise of a smile on her face.

A seasonal best for Marinette was the highest score she’d ever received for a short program. Currently she was ranked 1st with four more skaters to take the ice. Marinette knew it was unlikely she would remain at the top of the leader board for long, but she also knew that her score would be enough to put her in line for a medal. She grabbed the pink flower arrangement beside her and in her excitement hugged the blooms to her chest, inhaling the lovely sweet fragrance – and nearly poked her eye out with the pole of the French flag in the process.

Despite, the momentary lapse from the grace and poise of a top world-ranked figure skater – no one needed to be reminded that she only placed 13th at the last World Championship – Marinette quickly recovered, jumping up from her seat, waving and taking yet another bow to the audience.

She excitedly rocked from skate to skate, dancing on the spot with glee. Eventually she settled herself, as overhead the announcer welcomed the next skater to the ice. From within the crowd, a chorus of cheers resonated, streaks and banners of a different red, white, and blue popping up like seedling shooting up in a garden. Marinette smiled, recognizing one of Chloe’s friends in the crowd, and one of her loudest supporters. A sting of jealousy hit her as Marinette wondered if Chloe’s family was in the crowd as well.

Marinette understood that her parents were unable to attend the competition, it was hard for them to take days off from their bakery business. Plus, she was set to return to France after the Grand Prix Final for the French Championships, so she would see them soon enough.

Still…

Homesickness had always been hard on Marinette and she missed her parents and the warmth of their small Parisian home.

Despite her heartache, Marinette joined in the applause that filled the arena, giving an enthusiastic clap for her training mate, who circled the ice with a confident smile. Even if they didn’t get along most of the time, Marinette still wished Chloe the best in her skate.

As Chloe circled the ice, Cheryl joined Marinette at her side, quickly followed by Ryan, and the duo swept her into a gentle hug. Marinette relaxed in their arms, feeling content.

However, the moment seemed to hit a sour note when she opened her eyes and looked over Ryan’s shoulder to meet the angry frost-filled glare of Chloe Bourgeois, who stood at center ice, getting into her starting position of her program. Her hands had reached up to delicately arrange her treasured, long blonde ponytail over her shoulder, and her eyes stayed focused, for the briefest amount of seconds, on Marinette with a look of distaste. The moment went unnoticed by Ryan, who quickly released Marinette from his hold and returned his attention back to Chloe. And just as like that, with a swift flick of her hand, Chloe’s scowl seemed to melt away and she closed her eyes and lifted a hand to the sky, seemingly at ease.

Marinette blinked, not knowing if the look of disapproval from Chloe had been directed at her, or was simply apart of Chloe’s program – perhaps it was a move to get herself into character? However, judging by juxtaposition against the soft, classical notes of her music selection as the blond began to glide across the ice, Marinette guessed it was the former.

She pursed her lips as Cheryl walked with her down the hall towards the locker rooms and waiting areas. With firm pat on the shoulder, Cheryl quickly remarked, in her lightly accented Canadian French, on a job well done before promising a proper debrief later tonight. “For now,” she advised, as she passed Marinette her competition bag, “just enjoy yourself, and watch how your competition fairs, alright?”

“Right,” Marinette nodded.

“Oh! But before you do that, make sure you do some interviews!” Cheryl continued, “I’ll be sure to join you once Chloe’s gotten her scores, okay?”

Marinette nodded again, this with a little less confidence. 

Cheryl frowned, gently lifting Marinette’s chin up to met her eyes, “Honey, you’re interviews are fine, don’t beat yourself up about it! It’s all just apart of the game, right? Now, why don’t you just go take off those skates and then you can go charm all those silly reporters… 'kay?”

Marinette tried to ignore the slightly condescending tone, but the truth was that she got pretty nervous during press interviews, especially when she had just experienced the roller coaster of emotions of a competitive skate. That added with her tense nerves and tendency to be somewhat – okay, maybe not somewhat, but very – clumsy, usually ended up with her getting her words all twisted and many awkward moments. For even if she had been training in Canada for almost three years now, her English wasn’t as fluent as she would have hoped. And that added to the cauldron of her unease, just further proved that interviews were not Marinette’s strength.

And so she slowly dragged herself to the locker rooms and took her time untying her skates, hook by hook. She sat still for a good minute, her toes relishing in the freedom, despite the aches and tingles. Flexing her feet and rolling her ankles sent pins and needles up and down her legs, and when she slipped her feet into her thickly fleece-lined boots, she sighed in relief.

Marinette continued to take her time. Enjoying that she had the room to herself. She wiped down her blades; made sure they were dry and neatly tied up her laces together before placing them back into her bag.

Eventually, she worked up the courage to tentatively step out into the hall. She quickly ducked passed by the pressroom, happy to see that most of the sets were occupied – it could be a good excuse to throw at Cheryl and Ryan later. A few pair skaters seemed to still be getting interviewed and Marinette recognized the Japanese female skater who had skated first today – just before Marinette – standing by her manager as they translated a question for her.

Marinette continued down the hall. She turned a corner, bypassing the other qualifying Japanese skater, Mina Akiyama, two-time World Champion and Olympic silver medalist. Clearly preparing herself for her upcoming skate, Mina stared forward, focused on the ground in front of her, large noise-cancelling headphones overtop her perfectly arranged hair as she stretched her arms out above her.

Marinette took a deep breath, floundering slightly in the presence of greatness. She politely nodded her head, in Mina’s general direction, before squishing herself as far to the opposite wall as possible, trying to take up as little space as possible as she slipped by. Not so gracefully, Marinette lead herself down towards the waiting room. The door was welcomingly open and the room itself was sufficiently equipped a few chairs, plenty of room for stretching, and multiple screens streaming the event.

At the moment, the room was relatively empty. With the ladies short program being the last of the day and pretty late into the evening, Marinette could only assume the few men, pairs, and ice dance skaters that were here to watch, were up in the stands. This left a few managers and coaches chatting quietly together in the corner.

Marinette’s eyes quickly made her way over to the nearest seat. As she absently sat down – more focused on Chloe’s skating than her own movements – she almost slid right of the chair edge before catching herself at the last second. Readjusting herself, Marinette sat back and watched as Chloe danced on the ice, finishing up her step sequence before working up some speed to enter into her final jump.

Facing forward, Chloe swung a skate out ahead of her, before stepping forward on the ice into a swift turn, bending her knee and extending her leg out behind her. In a fluid motion, Chloe seemed to stretch out for a quick moment, before bringing her toe pick down to strike the ice. And just like that Chloe was airborne, arms brought into her chest as she spun.

However, on her landing, Chloe’s skate seemed unable to hold on its outside edge. Marinette watched in shock, wincing, as her training mate slipped on the ice.

A flash of anger – one that Marinette had witnessed many times before – appeared on Chloe’s visage, but it was quickly masked as she recovered back from her fall. She pushed herself back off her ice, turning into some back crossovers in order to regain her lost speed and catch up into her choreography.

Impressed by her determination, Marinette watched on as Chloe finished up the remaining elements of her program seamlessly. In her head, she replayed the fallen jump. Up until the landing, everything had been technically flawless, it just seemed that she had miscalculated her timing and was late in getting her skate back onto the ice.

Having trained with her, Marinette was no stranger to Chloe’s never-ending supply of tenaciousness, but the surprise of her fall was something hard to shake off. Of course, at this level of skating the sheer amounts of pressure were difficult – Marinette had become more than familiar with it this season. Chloe had seemed to have mastered it early on in her career, but in that triple flip, Marinette had briefly seen something that she never would have associated with Chloe: hesitation.

As the Chloe wrapped up her program with a spin, Marinette lightly clapped her hands, joining in with the crowd in the arena. After holding her final pose for a few seconds, Chloe’s demeanour seemed a little on edge as her smile seemed to falter, a crack forming in her barely held together composure. Clearly disappointed, she shook her head, her fair ponytail flailing back and forth from shoulder to shoulder. With a big inhale of breath, she turned to the audience with a smile and a bow.

And Marinette sighed along with her, still clapping her encouragements. From beside her, someone else echoed this moment of applause, causing her to jump in surprise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Did I mention that this is all going to be taking place before the prologue? If that wasn’t clear than here’s an author note to clear up the mud! 
> 
> Also… anyone else watch episode 11? that stuff cut me real deep… looking forward to episode 12!!!


	3. Fast Friendship! Post Short Program Interviews at the GPF!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Marinette’s first Grand Prix Final adventure continues!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marinette’s first Grand Prix Final adventure continues! Merry Christmas!!! And Happy Belated Birthday to Mr. Viktor Nikiforov!!! :3 
> 
> Sorry for the delay, I really wanted to update on or before Christmas, but I was working and covering shifts and time just got away from me!! I just finished it up today, and I just want to post is ASAP, so if there's any errors, please leave a comment and I'll be sure to fix it!

“Oh! Sorry!”

Marinette had been so focused on watching Chloe’s short program play out on the screen that she had failed to notice the newcomer into the room, who now sat beside her. Blinking in surprise, Marinette stared at the stranger seated next to her. She was a young woman, maybe a couple of years older than Marinette, with long, thick reddish-brown hair. Behind her large, black-rimmed glasses, her hazel eyes flashed with a mixture of concern and amused curiosity. Above her right eyebrow lay a distinctive beauty mark, one that subtly moved as her brow furrowed.

Realizing that she had yet to do more than stare, Marinette shook her head apologetically for her easily startled behaviour. Waving her hands out, with a small smile, she replied, “No, no, that’s alright!” She let out a shaky laugh, “Sorry, you just caught me by surprise!”

“Understandably! I was just passing by and I couldn’t not stop by!” the redhead continued, with a distinctive Quebec-French accent. She confidently reached out with a welcoming hand. “I’m Alya Césaire.”

Marinette was quick to shake her hand and introduce herself, in effort to make up for the awkward staring on her part. “Marinette –“

She was quickly met by an overly enthusiastic handshake as the redhead cut her off, finishing off her name with ease, “Dupain-Cheng! Oh I know! I’ve been loving your short program this season. You totally nailed it today!”

Marinette thanked her foresight to have worn her gloves, not only had they saved her from the cold bite of the frosty arena, but they added a layer of defense from Alya’s strong grip. Nevertheless, she was flattered by the compliment, and shyly tucked a piece of hair behind once her hand was free. “Thank you,” she replied, “that’s so nice of you to say.”

“No problem girl! Seriously, that double axel was so awesome! And that air time? You totally had enough height to get a triple out of it!”

Marinette laughed at that. A little embarrassed, she reached to rub the back of her head, before remembering all the hard work in getting her hair secured into a high bun. Instead she opted to rub her shoulder a little skeptically, “Yeah, well I used to try doing a triple axel… but I haven’t landed one in competition yet, so we figured… well… um, it just seemed safer to keep it as a double for now.”

“Hmmmm, fair enough… but for what it's worth, I think you could totally rock a triple easy!”

At this Marinette smiled, warmed by this girl’s friendliness and support. “Thanks!” she replied.

Grinning, Alya reached into her pocket, pulling out her phone, “Can I get a selfie with you? Would you mind?” she eagerly asked.

“Oh!” Marinette replied, slightly nervous, “Really? Sure, I – yeah.”

And in an instance, Alya scooted her chair close and placed an arm around Marinette’s shoulder, her other arm holding her phone out in front of them. Marinette had barely collected herself before she watched as Alya’s thumb tapped against the screen, capturing her own bright smile and Marinette’s uneasy grin, caught in a nervous giggle.

And just like that Alya sat back in her chair, staring down at her phone, “Thanks!” She beamed, before turning briefly back to Marinette, “Do you mind if I post this? I’ll tag you!”

Marinette laughed, staring down at her phone; seeing that Alya already had the photo primed to post onto her social media accounts. Glancing at the picture, Marinette decided she looked decent enough. “Go ahead,” she answered.

“Awesome,” Alya continued as she added a quick caption to the photo before posting it online, “you gotta check out my blo–“

But before she could finish her thought, Alya was interrupted by the flash of the screen in front of them. Everything else suddenly forgotten. Marinette turned, catching a close up of Chloe with Ryan and Cheryl in the kiss and cry on the TV in front of her. Together both Marinette and Alya settled and refocused on the screen to watch as Chloe’s scores came up on the screen.

Marinette gasped.

With the deduction to her score due to the fall on her triple flip, Chloe had landed in 2nd place… behind Marinette.

Her mouth fell open in shock.

On the screen Chloe seemed to glare holes into the presented score. Her composed seemed to wane thin as she turned to Ryan with an apparent scowl on her face, as she seemed to begin a frantic rant. Just as quickly, the cameras cut back to the ice as the next skater, a Russian blonde glided into her starting position.

Marinette sat there, still trying to digest the scores. Beside her Alya seemed to burst with excitement, “Wow!” she whooped, before turning to Marinette with a spark in her eye that flashed against the lenses of her glasses. Her fingers seemed to dance against her phone screen as she continued to update her social media pages.

Even with her attention divided between Marinette and the two screens in front of her, Alya seemed to be able to naturally multitask. She glanced up to Marinette continuing, “So how does it feel to surpass your training partner? Any thoughts going into the free skate tomorrow? What inspired your programs for this season? Oh man, I've got so many questions to ask you!!”

Marinette was taken aback by the sudden onslaught of questions, still processing everything. “Uh…” was all she could unintelligibly answer with.

“Oh sorry, I guess I didn’t properly introduce myself!” Alya reached into her bag, pulling out a lanyard with a large nametag attached. On it read, ‘Press’. She continued, waving lightly, “Alya Césaire: Journalism Intern for CCB Sports!”

At this, Marinette again jumped in her seat – although a little less startled than before, but still surprised. “Oh!” she peeped, staring wide eyed as she glanced back and forth from Alya and her presented badge. Marinette was pretty sure press weren’t allowed into this part of the arena, which was probably why Alya hadn’t been wearing her lanyard to begin with.

“Right,” Alya continued, taking in Marinette’s gaze, as it locked onto her badge. Alya discreetly tucked it back into her bag. She turned to check the room for any eavesdroppers, but apparently they hadn’t caught the attention of anyone else in the room. Despite this Alya still leaned in close to Marinette, a hand over her mouth to whisper, “I know I’m technically not supposed to be in here… but if you’re free, I would love to get an interview for my blog!”

Marinette ducked her head down, unsure of how to answer.

“It can be real quick, I promise!” Alya reassured.

“Um…” Marinette tried to smile, but in her nervousness it came out as more of a grimace. “S-sure.”

“Awesome!” Alya cheered, totally blind to Marinette’s uneasiness. The would-be reporter stood up, collecting her bag from the floor. “We can go out into the hallway if you’d like some more privacy.”

Marinette followed suit, standing up from her chair with shaky legs – was it due to nervousness or should she have done a more proper post-skate stretch out? She wasn’t sure, but she answered back with a quiet, “Okay.”

Together, the two girls walked out of the room. Alya still with her phone in her hand immediately opened her camera app, directing the screen towards herself on the front facing camera. Once they found a slightly secluded spot in the hall, Alya pressed the record button.

“Yo peeps!” She began, smiling widely into her phone’s camera lens, “Alya here, reporting from the Grand Prix Finals here in Barcelona at the Ladies short. And I’m here with French figure skating extraordinaire, Marinette Dupain-Cheng!”

At this, Alya pivoted so Marinette could be seen on screen behind her shoulder. Caught off guard, Marinette awkwardly raised a hand, waving at the camera, a somewhat pained smile on her face.

“So Marinette,” Alya continued, turning around and switching her phone out from the front facing camera. She held up her phone to film Marinette, “You just came off a great, strong short program performance, and at your first Senior Grand Prix Final – congrats by the way! How are you feeling?”

“Oh, thanks! Well…” the young skater paused, thinking for a moment. Marinette took a deep breath, contemplating the day so far and the long, long journey she had been on to get here. “Honestly, I’m still trying to take everything in. My first year on the senior circuit was definitely a challenge, and I think as a skater I’ve learnt and grown a lot since then. I’ve been working really hard, training with my coaches Ryan and Cheryl, and I think we are all just so happy that that work paid off with me qualifying for the Finals this year. Still, I was pretty nervous today, but I think I did my best and overall I’m very happy with my short program performance.”

Marinette let out another deep breath, having not realized how fast she was talking and how close she treaded on the line of articulate and babbling. She stared past the camera pointed at her face to smile at Alya, who nodded encouragingly.

“Right, you totally knocked it out of the arena today. Seriously, a personal best! It was amazing!”

“Thanks!”

“Oh, you’re welcome, girl!” Alya said, “Now you mentioned your coaches, Ryan and Cheryl. You’ve been training with them at their rink in Toronto for a few years now –“

Marinette nodded, “Yup, since I was 15.”

“And one of the most interesting things that comes with that is that you actually train with one of your fellow competitors, Chloe Bourgeois.”

“That’s right.”

“How is that type of environment then? Working and training so closely with someone who you also compete against?” questioned Alya.

“Right,” Marinette started, having been asked this question before, she was somewhat prepared for it. “Well the great thing is, is that Ryan and Cheryl are just so professional and amazing at what they do that it rarely feels like I’m sharing them with all the other skaters that they also coach. And in terms of training with Chloe… it’s always great to have a familiar face at competitions, it helps in not getting so caught up and isolated in everything. And not only does it add a layer of camaraderie but I think it makes us both strive to do our best, whether that’s during training, or at a competition.”

Alya’s eyebrows rose at Marinette’s response, “Well, that’s quite the answer. Sounds almost like friendly rivalry then, eh?”

Marinette shrugged, “Yeah, you could say that.”

“Now, you won your first French National Championship last year and you’ve had a great season this year.” Alya continued, changing the subject seamlessly, “In recent years, France seems to be producing some great skaters, why do you think that is?”

Marinette paused, thinking about France, her home, and her inspirations when it came to figure skating, “Well I can’t speak for the whole nation. But for myself I was lucky to be exposed to the sport at a young age, and my parents – my dad in particular – were always trying to get me to try new things. My very first figure skating coach also babysat me when I was younger and she had a collection of old VHS tapes of competitions. She had recordings from everything, from the 1994 Olympics to almost every World Championship since the 80’s, and even random events with commentary in languages we couldn’t understand! Just piles and piles of footage, and we would watch them all the time.

“And in those old tapes there were many French figure skaters that definitely built the foundation for skating in the country today,” Marinette continued, smiling at her fond memories, “I mean, Surya Bonaly is my hero!”

“Oh man, I love her!” Alya agreed.

Smiling wide, Marinette nodded along, “Right? And there’s Philippe Candeloro, Brian Joubert –”

“Very true. And your skating totally reminds me of the artistry of those skaters. I mean the one thing about you that seems to always remain consistent since last year, is that you get some pretty great artistic scores.”

“Oh, thank you,” Marinette replied bashfully, “Um, but besides singles skaters, France is known for many successful pairs and ice dance teams, there are plenty of skaters that worked in paving the way for skating in France. The history goes way back.”

“And it’s all culminated to today, to you and Adrien Agreste!”

Jumping at the name, Marinette flushed, “Oh no no no no… I mean! Uh – I mean, yes! But, um, what I mean is… Adrien Agreste is probably responsible for the resurgence in figure skating worldwide, let alone just France! I’m definitely not quite on that level…”

Alya laughed, “Well not yet anyways!”

Marinette chuckled along nervously, unsure of what to say. She thought back to the first time she’d seen Adrien Agreste skate, even then at so young, he was an instant icon. Sure she grew up loving skating, but he had definitely been a great inspiration to her.

Adrien Agreste: the youngest men’s Olympic gold medalist of all time… at 16 years old! _Wow_ , young Marinette’s eyes had been as wide as dinner plates watching him skate. _And he was a fellow Parisian?_ Marinette wouldn’t have thought it possible. But the minute she saw him move on the ice, even before all his accumulation of accolades, she knew. She knew she was watching something special. Everyone did.

“Well,” Alya said, turning her phone camera back to face herself, “I think that’s our cue to sign off! Thanks Marinette for your time, and best of luck tomorrow in your free skate!”

“Oh! Um… Thanks Alya, I really appreciate that,” Marinette replied, waving again at the camera.

“No problem, girl!” Alya responded, as she poked her phone screen to end the video recording, “Thanks so much for the interview.”

Once her recording had stopped, Alya tucked her phone back into her pocket and turned to Marinette. “So how’d I do?” She asked eagerly expectant.

Taken off guard, Marinette had been so caught up in her own nerves, she never considered the confident, bold girl in front of her to ask for an evaluation of her own performance.

“Oh! Well, that was probably one of the easiest interviews I’ve ever done!” Marinette replied.

At that Alya frowned slightly, and Marinette fumbled in trying to reassure her. “No, no!” the skater continued, hoping to dig herself out of the hole she had buried herself into, “I mean that in the best way… I get really nervous during interviews… and well,” she paused thinking of the right words, “that was kinda like just talking to a friend, you know?”

“Aw!” Alya beamed, “Thanks girl, I totally felt the same way! You know! I’m actually living in Toronto right now… and I’m going back to school next semester there, so if you ever have any free time, we should totally hang out!”

“Yeah!” Marinette agreed, “I would really like that!” She pulled out her phone to hand to Alya, who quickly took it and typed in her contact information. After that she quickly snapped a quick contact photo of herself to add to her number.

And just as Alya handed Marinette back her phone, voices from down the hall reached their ears.

“Seriously,” whisper-shouted the first voice, “He like never goes to watch other events at competitions.”

A second voice answered, “Yeah, but Chloe said –“

“Chloe always says things, she just brags to anyone who’s willing to hear her talk.”

Alya looked at Marinette smirking and raising a mischievous brow.

“Yeah… I guess you’re right…”

“Uh-huh, as if Adrien Agreste would be here! He doesn't even go to gala after parties – let alone the girls short program!”

At the mention of Adrien’s name, Alya instantly perked up, internally, so did Marinette. _Adrien Agreste here!?!_ _Had he seen her skate!?_ Chloe was notorious for bragging about how close she was to THE Adrien Agreste and blah, blah, childhood friends, blah, but Marinette had gotten used to just tuning her out and nodding along at this point. But still if he really was here…

The voices down the hall lowered in volume, eventually dying out as whoever was talking walked further away from Marinette and Alya.

“Oh my God!” Alya almost shouted! Jumping on the spot, she reached for her phone, immediately opening up her twitter app to check for any leads, “Can you imagine!?! If Adrien Agreste is actually here!??! Maybe I can find him and get an interview!!!”

“That would be pretty amazing,” Marinette agreed, somewhat in shock.

“Oh hell yeah it would be!” Alya continued, “Okay, girl. Seriously, thanks again for the interview. Text me when you’re free! I gotta go! But if you’re going to do more interviews, check out my boss at the CCB booth and maybe I’ll be there!”

“Okay,” Marinette replied.

“Awesome, well I gotta go I’m going to see if I can catch an interview with the elusive Adrien Agreste… wish me luck! Oh! And you better kill it tomorrow in the long! Okay?”

Marinette laughed lightly as Alya turned, her wild auburn hair swinging dramatically in the air. As she watched her retreating back running down the hall, she called out, “I’ll try!! And good luck!”

Smiling to herself, Marinette stared down at her phone in her hand, taking in the new contact that had just recently been added. After a moment, she felt the nagging pull of muscle in her legs and quickly did a few stretches before making her way back down the hall in the opposite direction, back to the pressroom, with a much more confident stride than before.

On her way however, voices again echoed down the hall. This time Marinette was able to easily recognize the owners.

It was definitely Ryan, Cheryl, and a very, VERY angry Chloe.

“What is my father even paying you for if I can’t beat everyone!” her voice shouted, heavy with rage, “My technical elements are way higher than Marinette’s, ARE THE JUDGES BLIND!?! This is ridiculous! UGGGHHHHH!”

Marinette jumped at the mention of her name, immediately turning tail and heading back the way she came, determined to avoid the fury of Chloe Bourgeois.

Because, while she had given Alya a very tactful and slightly true response in terms of her question about training with Chloe, the truth was things between Chloe and Marinette were pretty contentious. It was true that it did inspire Marinette to work harder and be better, but the reality of it was that in Marinette’s mind, Chloe was a spoiled, pretentious, immature bully that couldn't stand things not going her way.

And Marinette had been putting up with it for years – dealing with the odd mean-spirited prank here and there, and many a rude or incredibly passive aggressive comment during practice. This, however, was the first time Marinette had surpassed Chloe at a competition and it seemed to be the straw that broke the already very weak and tired camel’s back. Her screams could still be heard even as Marinette rounded the corner. Walking as quick as she could, before she all out ran, Marinette sprinted down the hallway, desperate for the nearest exit. Because after such a great night – skating a personal best and making a new friend – Marinette did not feel like becoming Chloe’s personal punching bag once again.

So when she saw a door, at the end of the corridor, she wasted no time in rapidly pushing against the crash bar and stepping out into the humid Barcelona night air –

Where she immediately ran straight into someone.

“Oof!” twin grunts reached into the air as Marinette was caught completely off-guard and fell gracelessly backwards onto her backside. Her eyes closed firmly, as if hoping to hide herself from the situation.

“Are you alright?” a concerned voice asked in accented English, pausing before repeating the question in hesitant Spanish, “…estás bien?”

Marinette opened her eyes, blinking into the night, taking in the stranger standing in front of her. Dressed suspiciously-inconspicuously, like a cartoon parody of a spy in disguise, the man stood before her in designer jeans and casual orange sneakers. He wore a white t-shirt underneath a grey cowl-neck hoodie, which he wore with the hood up over his head. Over that was layered a high-quality, black leather jacket.

To complete the look, he had a pair of black sunglasses… at night?

“Uhhh…” stared up at him, with no words; she looked up blankly at the stranger. _Who the hell wears sunglasses at night!?!_ She wondered in confusion. _Ohmigod_ , she thought, _serial killers; serial killers wear sunglasses at night… right? Preying on young women at arena exit doors!?!?! AHHHHHHHHHH!!!_ she screamed internally,

“Miss?” The man asked nervously.

“Um,” Marinette voiced, still frozen on the pavement floor. From her vantage point he towered over her, increasing her unease.

The man frowned slightly, reached out a hand. “May I help you?” he asked offering his hand for her to take.

Blinking out of her paranoid daze, Marinette snapped out of her bewilderment, smiling at the man’s politeness. Serial killer or not, there were plenty of people walking on the nearby sidewalk and perhaps her imagination had gotten the best of her – although, his attire definitely was suspicious. However, in her haste to flee from her rival, her adrenaline had gone sky high, adding fuel to the flames of her creative imagination. Now all that worried her was her complete embarrassment.

“Sorry! I just –“ she said as she took a hold of his large hand, “I wasn’t looking where I was going… and well… sorry!”

With his assistance Marinette regained her footing, standing up and running her hands over her dress skirt. She stared up at the stranger in front of her with a small, self-deprecating smile.

The man returned it, “No, that’s totally fine, I’m sorry I got in your way, Princess. You seemed like a lady on a mission!”

Laughing nervously, Marinette wringed out her hands in front of her. _Princess?_  she thought, staring up into the night sky. Unsure of how to respond, Marinette floundered for a moment, “Oh, well… I just –“ she sighed heavily, looking back to him, “I just needed to get some air.”

The man nodded, and Marinette suddenly felt self-conscious, not being able to see where he was looking from behind his tinted lenses.

But then the man cocked his head to the side as if Marinette had ignited some spark of recognition within him. She mirrored his movement, trying to look past the shadow his hoodie imposed on his features and the sunglasses covering his eyes.

He opened his mouth to say something, and Marinette waited, expectant to hear what it was that he was going to say. But before his words could travel into the night air, a sudden honk from behind them interrupted him.

Jumping slightly, the two unfamiliar acquaintances turned to see a silver car driving in their direction, windows just as opaque as the man’s sunglasses.

On seeing the car’s advancing silhouette, the man flinched in alarm, a small, exasperated gasp replacing whatever it was that was on the tip of his tongue but a moment ago. He moved to turn, to sprint in the opposite direction, but he paused for a second, before turning back to Marinette, a sly grin on his face.

“Well,” he began, holding up two fingers to his forehead in a jesting salute, “Sorry again for the crash collision!” He laughed, a delighted, yet somehow innocent ring, echoing against the bright city lights, making Marinette feel warm, “Next time, I’ll be sure to stay out of the way!” he yelled as he turned and sprinted down the street staring back at her for a moment over his shoulder.

Marinette stared after him, as he disappeared down a nearby alley, the silver car chasing after him, leaving behind a slightly dazzled and extremely confused Marinette.

What did he mean by 'Next time'?!

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I totally fangirled after writing the first part of this chapter I realized I too have a mole above my right eyebrow!!! AH! I’m totally Alya… minus the awesome hair... and hazel eyes… and ok okay, maybe I'm not Alya, but it made me happy! 
> 
> Also hope you guys all enjoyed Yuri!!! on Ice, the last episode was an emotional rollercoaster and I just loved it all so much! Looking forward to the next level! and I’ll be trying to fill the void of new episodes in my heart with writing!!!
> 
> Follow me on tumblr if you want behind the scene text posts with notes on how I'm slowly falling into the void that is trying to write a coherent piece of writing (ﾉ◕ヮ◕)ﾉ*:･ﾟ✧


	4. Disaster and Dancing! The GPF Free Skate! Part 1: The Warm Up!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The free skate! Ignore the chapter title #nospoilers ( ͡° ͜ʖ ͡°)

Adrien sprinted, turning down a random alleyway, barely breaking a sweat as he jumped a locked chain-linked fence. The hood of his grey hoodie promptly fell back, revealing his mussed blonde hair. Landing softly on the hard concrete, he turned to see the screeching tires of his coach’s town car as it ditched the idea of chasing him down the narrow path.

Perhaps he should’ve just answered his phone.

Grinning widely, he mentally patted himself on the back for a successful foray into a small act of rebelliousness. He had snuck out of the hotel and made his way to the arena relatively undetected. Not only had he had gotten to watch the warm up, he even managed to stick around to watch a couple of the performances of the ladies’ short program.

One of those skates being from Adrien’s old – and some would say only – friend Chloe. And while it wasn’t her best skate, Adrien was happy to have been there to experience it in person and to support his friend from close by. He would have to be sure to text her some words of encouragement sometime tomorrow, once the wounds had some time to heal. Unfortunately just before Chloe had wrapped up her performance, the continued hum from his phone in his pocket alerted him that people were most likely alerted to his absence, which led him to standing outside the arena, contemplating the pros and cons to answering the incessant buzzing of his cell.

Which had led to an even more fascinating development. Standing outside, Adrien had managed to bump into his French female counterpart. He knew he recognized her the minute he grabbed her hand to help her up off the ground. She wore a familiar black jacket, one which Adrien himself had a copy of, given to him by the French Skating Federation. Of course, he himself never wore his… his father always specially made his own custom sportswear and had his outfits planned just as intricately as his schedule.

Still, the giddiness and freedom he felt in his anonymity – he had to ensure no one recognized him of course – had left him able to interact with his own peer. He had actually quietly cheered and admired her skate earlier that night. And while he couldn’t recall ever really meeting her in person – other than passing by one another throughout the years – Adrien felt a pressure to ensure he made a good first impression. Luckily for him though, she hadn’t identified him as Adrien Agreste, so he found himself behaving much more outgoing and wild from his usual reserved self.

Back to his daring escape, Adrien turned, his back grazing against the cool metal of the fence now behind him. Grinning, he whipped the pair of sunglasses he wore off his face, picturing himself as a hero in some cheesy action movie, aloofly walking away from a major explosion in the background. He stood tall in his achievement, tucking the sunglasses into his pocket and puffing his chest out, before being suddenly pulled back by his shoulder.

“Ack!” he yelped, falling back against the malleable fence wall, uncharacteristically flailing for a moment before regaining his balance. He glanced over his shoulder to see his leather jacket had gotten tangled into the wire netting of the fence. Huffing a deep breath, Adrien slipped out of his jacket, intent of getting it free.

As he delicately worked on untangling the black leather from its silver, metal trap, he felt another familiar murmur of his cellphone emanating from his jacket pocket.

Sighing, he reached forward knowing exactly who was phoning him. So far tonight, he had been quite adamant about ignoring these calls, but after almost getting run over he figured it might be for the best to try to appease the situation. He stared down at his phone screen for a moment, still hesitant, before reluctantly answering the call.

“Yes, Coach Serdtsebezski?”

“Adrien,” replied a hash, steely, Russian accented voice, “Vhere are you?”

Giving up momentarily on his jacket, Adrien reached a hand up to scratch the back of his head, “Just leaving the gym…”

He could easily picture her ice-cold glare. Having known him since he was very young, Adrien’s coach, Nataliya Serdtsebezski was a renowned figure skating coach. Ever professional and even more so strict, Gabriel Agreste had hired her on to coach his son after his wife’s sudden illness. But even prior to that Nataliya had always been a close family friend, so Adrien had long since been accustomed to her extremely cold demeanour that matched the unforgiving industry in which she excelled.

So it was no surprise to Adrien that she immediately seemed skeptical of his answer, easily able to see through his lies.

“The one in the hotel?” she asked.

Pausing for a moment, Adrien ran through his options. He could say he was at a gym close by… but he wouldn’t know any specifics, specifics that his Coach would for sure ask about. But if he said he was in the hotel, he would have to haul ass and get back there as soon as possible.

Clearing his throat, Adrien answered, “Yes… I, I just felt that some light cardio would be good as a cool down from practice this morning… so I just did a bit of work on the treadmill and some stretching.” Internally, he flinched, not even able to convince himself of the half-baked lie. “I’m just heading back to my room. Going to go to bed, so…”

“Is that right? I thought the gym would be closed this time of night.”

“Ah, well, they kept it open… It was pretty busy…”

A pause. Adrien shifted, reaching to tug on his jacket once more. They both knew he wasn’t in the hotel.  

“Well then,” his coach continued, and Adrien let out a breath that he hadn’t realized he had been holding. “If you don’t mind, would you be able to join us at the bar for a quick run through of your program and discuss tomorrow’s skate?”

Finally getting his jacket free, Adrien juggled holding his phone to his ear, while putting his jacket back on and dancing around a response to reply with, “Ah, well… I’m pretty tired, so I was planning on going to bed.” He laughed nervously, “You know how important sleep is before a competit–”

“Adrien,” she interrupted curtly, immediately silencing his rambling, her voice even more severe and dissonant. “Your father is here.”

Eyes wide, Adrien almost dropped his phone in shock, “I – I, whaaat– ? Father is h-here?”

Slightly exasperated, Nataliya replied, “Yes, meet us down in at the bar, **immediately**.”

And with that the call ended.

Adrien froze, his phone in hand, staring down at the screen flashing at him that the call was indeed over, and that yes that conversation had just taken place. Whipping his head back up to look around him, Adrien immediately began to orient himself in the middle of the busy Barcelona streets, calculating the quickest way back to the hotel.

“Shit,” he muttered quietly under his breath.

And for the second time that night, Adrien found himself sprinting across the city intent on reaching his destination in a believable amount of time – more specifically the amount of time it would take to get from his penthouse suite in the hotel to the posh bar in the lobby.

 

* * *

 

The first time Marinette had seen Adrien Agreste skate, she knew she was watching magic.

His edgework was flawless, accented further by the deep bend in his knees that he made look breathtakingly easy, and on top of all this, his jumps were perfect – a stunning mixture of strong and powerful, while at the same time beautifully graceful. He was everything that judges looked for: high levels of difficulty, excellent grades of execution, and artistry.

Marinette, only 11 years old at the time, had just been accepted into INSEP, the National Institute of Sport. That previous spring she had started her training at the center, found in the Bois de Vincennes, just on the outskirts of Paris. She adored it, being able to go straight to the arena first thing in the morning – even if she had to endure waking up early and the 1-hour commute on the metro.

From dawn ‘til dusk, and even in her dreams, her time was filled with thoughts on skating. Thinking about the costumes, the choreography, the techniques, the spins, the jumps… the list was endless and ever growing. Albeit there were interludes of study sessions, but the older athletes spoke tales and wonders of getting their baccalauréat diploma as early as 15 in order to focus more time of training and competitive skating. This new world almost entirely immersed in figure skating was a dream come true.

Which had eventually led to a group field trip for Marinette and a few of the young figure skaters that winter. They, along with some selected locals were invited to be flower sweepers at the 2008 French Figure Skating Championships in Megève, and young Marinette had danced in celebration.

The job was simple, skate on the ice after each performance and collect the various bouquets and gifts that had been thrown forth from the crowd. Dressed in pretty and simple dark blue outfits, they were meant to showcase their quick and efficient skating techniques while at the same time gain the experience of being on a national stage and dealing with the atmosphere of competition.

“I’m going to go out there… skate the fastest and pick up the most plushies than anyone!” bellowed Alix, a short and spunky, pinked haired skater, who while being a year older than Marinette still sat shorter than her. Their coaches had deemed her ideal for pairs skating, a daredevil on and off the ice who had no problem being lifted and thrown about. However, the one deterring factor was that no partnership seemed to fit just right, and they often ended in some passive aggressive silent treatments for weeks on end. Marinette, however, had no problem getting along with Alix. They spent many afternoons and warm-ups racing each other in laps around the ice.

“And then, while everyone else is still picking up their first bunch of flowers,” she continued, a bright spark in her eyes, “I’m gonna do a double Salchow.”

“Alix…” piped another of Marinette’s training mates, Rose, a kind-hearted girl, the youngest of them all. “You wouldn’t want to get in trouble! Oh it would be awful if they sent you home because of that!”

“Pffffft,” Alix returned, crossing her arms and leaning back against the hard train seats. “I’d like to see ‘em try!”

At this the group broke out into giggles. They had more than gotten accustomed to her talks of glory and astonishment, and while they knew better than to expect her to go through with said plan, together they delighted in imagining the skaters they would see in person.

“Oh!!! I’m so excited to see Brian Joubert!” Rose swooned.

“I’m excited to see the ladies programs,” Marinette added. “I bet their costumes will be divine!”

Alix, completely oblivious to the others, stared out the window. “I wonder how fast this train is going?”

It wasn’t until later the next day in the Palais des Sports Arena that Marinette stood at the boards, mouth about in awe.

They had been at the arena for almost the entire day, drinking hot chocolate and watching as the competitors warmed up. A pair of hairdressers had even stopped by to do their hair and have them ready for the ice. They cooed over Marinette’s pigtails, eventually deciding to leave them be – with the addition of hairspray and glitter of course. Rose on the other hand, with her long blonde hair, was given an elegant high bun, wrapped in a braid. She admired the handiwork in the mirror, thanking the hairdressers profusely and giggling under the shower of added glitter.

Alix however did not receive the same treatment. The hairdressers lamented over her asymmetrical haircut, and sweated in combing out all her tangles. Eventually they fashioned some sort of side bun with one side of her hair French-braided. She scowled when approached with the thought of glitter and promptly dodged any attempts – dodges that managed to askew bits and pieces of her hair before they were even on the ice!

Today’s events so fair had mostly been the Junior brackets, and it was enjoyable to watch as skaters just a little older than themselves skated across the ice, giving them hopes and glimpses into their possible futures.

At least it was enjoyable for most of them.

“This is lame…” Alix whispered as they waited for the start of the Junior Men’s Short Program. “When do we see the good stuff?”

“Oh hush, Alix!” Rose scolded half-heartedly, a small giggle escaping her pretend scowl. Because in the end, they all sort of were somewhat unimpressed, having just watched the Junior Ladies’ Short Program, knowing that soon they would easily skate just as well as most of the competitors. It made them thirsty to show off their own prowess, but instead they were assigned to skate around like babies, picking up various gifts thrown on the ice, basically invisible as all eyes stayed glued onto the performers.  

But the day changed for Marinette once her eyes locked onto his.

It wasn’t until he gotten a few seconds into his short program that Marinette had really noticed him. Prior to that, he was just another skater. He was dressed simply and elegantly. Perfectly tailored black dress pants with a simple white button-up shirt, rolled up to his elbows, a peek of a black t-shirt underneath and matching black suspenders running up his torso and over his shoulders. Nothing entirely groundbreaking or eye-catching, but nevertheless he looked very well put together.

His music was classical, a generic choice, but something about it in combination to his skating made her think of springtime. Perhaps it was the brightness of his blonde hair, or the verdant richness of his beautiful green eyes that reminded her of rain-soaked grass and twining vines – details that she couldn’t help but catch as he passed by, so close and so fast. His eyes looked into the crowd as his circled the rink’s boundaries, picking up speed.

Of course he wasn't looking at her directly, but in her memories she liked to think he spotted her, picked her out from the crowd. He moved with a grace that kept the arena silent in awe. His footwork perfectly timed and matching with the rushing, complex melody of his program. He looked charmingly young and spirited even though his moments on the ice showed maturity and mastery of the sport. The choreography of his skating was made to look easy and lovely, despite the fact that Marinette could see the perfection of his technique and the difficulty inherent in his subtle movements.

And when he jumped?

He flew.

Over the applause of the crowd, Marinette could vaguely hear her friends next to her.

“Wow,” gapped Rose, eyes wide.

“Who…?” asked Alix.

Mariette, sitting in between the two, was barely able to register their gasps, let alone her own. Instead she watched as the boy landed his triple-triple combination jump flawlessly, stretching out his free leg behind him, his face breaking into a triumphant smile.

And in that smile, Marinette felt the summer sun.

The feeling was fleeting, but it reminded her of something – something she had no words in her young vocabulary to describe. It was as if she was back home in Paris at the rink she visited almost every day, sitting under the heaters awaiting her turn on the ice, or the feeling of biting into a fresh pastry still warm and fresh from the oven in her parents’ bakery.

He continued on, lunging into a layback Ina Bauer. His feet stretched across the ice in an extended fourth position, emphasizing the outside edge of his skates. As he exited the move, he swung his arms back, lifting a leg off the ice behind him. And in one smooth movement, he leapt up into the air, using the moment of his limbs to swing into a tight spinning position.

And again he easily landed another component: a triple Axel.

His smile was much more subdued in that landing. An innocent one-sided grin as if he was not surprised to have landed such a difficult element.

The ephemeral familiarity Marinette had felt stretched on; her eyes were transfixed on his performance, unaware of the deep blush upon her cheeks.

“Who the hell is that?!” asked Alix.

Her question went unanswered. None of them had been listening when the boy had come on the ice, and now they were much to invested in watching him complete his program.

As he came to a final stop, holding his final pose for a few counts, Alix’s query was finally answered.

“From Paris, Adrien Agreste,” blared the arena speakers.

 _From Paris?!_ Marinette thought, slightly stunned, unaware of the bustling and movement around her. Everyone was moving towards the boards ready to be unleashed onto the ice.

She was however, quickly reminded of her job, as one of the supervisors whisper-yelled, “Allez! Go, go!!! Vite! Fast now, children!”

The doors to the ice were opened and quickly they spread out along the ice, racing to collect bouquets, flowers, cards, and toys being thrown from the audience.

Marinette, still a bit dazed, dawdled behind her counterparts, most of who zoomed forth to the farthest reaches of the ice. This left Marinette, gliding slowly along the ice’s perimeter, idly grabbing for objects around her, her eyes mostly focusing on the boy at center ice. His blonde hair fluttered as he bowed to the crowd, before springing perfectly back into its stylized place. Smiling widely, he waved humbly, before turning and skating towards the doors… towards Marinette.

Jumping slightly and tangled in nerves, Marinette tried to finally focus on her task in favour of attracting any attention from the skilled skater in front of her. He glided slowly, hands on his hips as he took several deep breaths, staring down at the ice below him.

Marinette suddenly determined, caught a clash of black fluff against the ice, moving forward and stretching down, she grabbed the soft plush, smiling at the little green-eyed animal in her hands.

Turning slightly, she reached for another nearby gift, a delicate bundle of red roses, wrapped in plastic. Just as she bent down to scooped up the blossoms, her eyes caught onto the close proximity she held to the skater, Adrien.

Instinctively she flinched in shock, even though she was nowhere close to being in danger of colliding with him. His nearness, however, seemed to put her on edge, causing for her to momentarily lose balance. Floundering, she overcompensated her backwards momentum, leaning much too forward, to quickly, still intent on retrieving the red roses.

And that is how Marinette made her debut on the national stage – albeit not as a competitor but as a volunteer – by tripping right in front France’s rising ingénue, skating prodigy, Adrien Agreste.

Looking back on it now, Marinette had one silver lining to the situation. Thank God Chloe had not been witness to her humiliation. If the blonde bully had indeed known or been present, it was without a doubt that Marinette would still be dealing with the occasional jeer and pestering at her own expense.

Still, this thought was not something 11-year old Marinette was privy to, so it did not to quell Marinette’s utter mortification. She tried her best to recover quickly, refusing to look up and catch the eyes of those laughing at her or staring at her with pity. No, no, no, she wished for nothing more than to believe this had never happened, and the avoidance of any reaction from those around her seemed like a sure bet to keep her in the waters of denial for a moment longer.

Stubbornly focusing on the ice, she reached out for the fallen roses; quickly grabbing the black cat plush she had dropped, collecting the gifts with haste. Eventually she ran out of items to gather, leaving her to finally compose herself, to rise up with grace and shake off the embarrassment. She huffed a heavy breath, preparing herself.

She looked up.

_Oh…_

The flash of green caught her immediately.

_Oh no._

Her heart fluttered, no longer in her control. As Adrien Agreste, eyes wide with concern closed the short distance between them, coming to a smooth stop in front of her. Internally Marinette screamed. Externally her eyes glazed slightly, obscuring her vision. She blinked, determined to keep the embarrassed tears from falling down her face.

Adrien’s face seemed to soften kindly as he bent down, reaching a hand out towards her.

Staring up at him, Marinette fought her frown, fought her watering eyes, and tried and failed to fight back the sudden onslaught of blush across her freckled cheeks.

Her gaze flickered back and forth from his outstretched hand to his green, green eyes, oddly confused as to what to do – suddenly shy and stunned.

In reaction, she jerked her arms forward, offering the boy his gifts. She placed the bundle of roses into his offered hard.

He stared at her puzzled in silence, looking down at the roses, a smile growing upon his face.

And he laughed.

Her immediate instinct told her that he was laughing at her expense, clearly appalled at her behaviour. How could such a poor skater have been chosen to skate in front of greatness?

The thought alone had her imagination running, telling her to become a hermit, to travel the world, a desolate vagabond, seeking refuge in any land that wouldn’t instantly banish her, recognizing her as the flower sweeper girl at the 2008 French National Championships… _You think you can hide your face here?_ They would say, jeering her unforgivingly –

However as she stared back into his dazzling eyes, crinkled in delight, she realized he was not laughing at her, but just perhaps the situation: a little girl down on one knee offering him flowers.

She smiled up at him nervously, her mouth twitching slightly, before she too broke out into giggles.

Adrien smiled, this hand wrapping around the roses, taking them from Marinette. He transferred them to his left hand and again reached out towards her.

“Hello,” he smiled brightly.

“I’m sorry!” Marinette impulsively replied.

His brow furrowed, his lips pursed, “No – That’s, that’s okay. Are you alright?”

She nodded.

He smiled again, “Oh good, can I help you up?”

“Oh!” she blushed, “Oh, I – Um, yes, of course.” She took his hand and he easily helped her back up to standing, him holding the red roses, her holding a fluffy black cat plush.

“T-thank you,” she said.

He bowed dramatically, letting go of her hand before standing back up straight. “It was no problem, little lady.”

“Adrien!” someone called from the boards.

He looked away from her, both of them brought back to reality. But before he skated away, he turned back to her. He reached into the bundle of flowers, plucking a single thorn-less rose out from the bunch. Smiling wide, he offered it to her.

“Here,” he smiled, “For you.”

Glancing up at him, her vision swept back and forth between his emerald eyes and the beautiful red petals, until finally she tentatively reached up, fingers bumping his as her transferred the single red rose into her hand.

She looked up to he his retreating back, walking off the ice into the arms of his coaches. As she watched him go, she twirled the rose in her hands. He didn’t turn back to give Marinette another view of his lovely green eyes or another glance at his winning smile. She sighed, looking down at the pretty rose in her hands.

And in doing so she missed Adrien as he glanced over his shoulder. Smiling, he looked back at the girl on the ice, thinking in wonder that he had just made a friend.  

 

* * *

 

Marinette padded along her section of the room, thick heavy socks on her feet as she stared around the warm-up room. Her soft woolen socks did little to muffle the nervous shuffling of her feet. All around, her competition had gathered, everyone preparing for the free skate. On the TV on the wall played out the ice dancing free dance, showing couples twirling and gliding gracefully across the ice. Staring around the rest of the room, Marinette watched as most of the other girls stretched out, wearing headphones to cancel out any distractions.

Dressed in plentiful layers overtop her free skate performance dress, Marinette closed her eyes, running through her program in her mind for the 100th time. In her head she could hear the music and she easily raised her arms at the right musical beats and even bouncing in time to practise her jumps. As she mapped out her skate, imagining herself on the ice. However, even with all the practise and preparation, she couldn’t help but shake the sinking heaviness in her bones, the cold sweat breaking on her skin, and even more distracting, the feeling of eyes on her.

Uneasy and uncomfortable, Marinette stopped her practise to look out across the room. Almost instantly she met the angry glare of Chloe. The blonde skater sat on the ground, on the opposite side of the room, her legs stretched out into a side split.

Clad in her white and gold dress, Chloe was staring daggers in Marinette’s direction. Her platinum hair had been precisely pulled back into a high ponytail that flowed down her back, swishing from side to side as Chloe shook her head at Marinette, her arms crossed over her chest.

In response Marinette raised her eyebrows in question. _What on earth was her problem?_

Loudly, Chloe clucked her tongue, before proceeding to loudly chew on a piece of gum. Her eyes still locked on to Marinette as she blew a bubble.

_Pop!_

Blinking in astonishment, Marinette turned around, determined to not let Chloe get to her. In doing so, she almost smacked into a girl about her own age. She stood a bit shorter than Marinette, her bright orange-red hair but into a chin-length bob and held away from her face with a simple white headband. Her outfit was demure and almost business like, an argyle sweater over a white collared shirt and simple black dress pants. On her face she wore thick tortoise shell glasses, completing her outfit, giving her an air of intelligence.

“Oh! Sorry!” the girl peeped, a high pitch voice and a sympathetic smile as she walked around Marinette, mirroring Marinette’s own gasped apology.

Together the two girls shared a quick smile before Marinette was again reminded of her original goal by another loud pop from behind her. Trying her best to ignore the sound, Marinette took out her phone from her jacket pocket. In her distraction she failed to notice another shared look in the room as the redheaded girl continued on her way out of the room. As the girl walked past Chloe she gave a small and firm nod of her head, to which Chloe smiled conspiratorially. Oblivious to such an inconspicuous action, Marinette unlocked her phone, refreshing the news page link that Alya had sent her the night before. On the screen she smiled looking at and reaffirming her placement after the short program.

_3 – Marinette Dupain-Cheng (FRA)_

She hadn’t been dreaming. She was in definite medal contention, and at the Grand Prix Finals! She bit back a smile, her body vibrating, either with nerves or happiness, or some sick mixture of both.

And just below her name on the standings:

_4 – Chloe Bourgeois (USA)_

As bad as it sounded, this made Marinette smile grow even more. But this was a competition, and Chloe had made it perfectly clear throughout their years together that they were not friends, so Marinette did feel some satisfaction and validation in knowing that she had outskated her rival in the short program.

Not only that but Marinette actually had a realistic chance in placing on the podium today. Her first Grand Prix Final – and a medal within her grasp!

From behind her, Marinette could still hear the crude sound of gum smacking. She reached down into her bag nearby, finally deciding to follow the example of the other skaters with their earphones on. And so Marinette put her own pair on, playing her free skate music from her phone and closing her eyes once more to gain her concentration. She continued visualizing her skate, stretching out her limbs and jogging on the spot to keep herself warm until her breathing became shallower and shallower. Whether it was due to nerves or exertion, she couldn’t say, although deep, deep down she could feel the growing weight and pressure set upon her.

Eventually it got to the point where she needed to get her skates on, so Marinette sat down and began to lace up her skates. Soon the skaters would be given their stipulated warm-up time on the ice and then the free skate would begin. The order of skaters was determined by the ranking from the short program the night before. Chloe, being in 4th place currently, was to skate 2nd, followed by Marinette.

Humming along to the sounds of her music, Marinette pulled and tighten her skate laces, delicately and patiently going through the process she had done countless times before. The activity helped to settle some of the unease she was feeling. Simply focusing on the pressure to her feet over the pressure on her shoulder. She flexed her feet and ensured her tying was secure, before standing back up staring down at her skates in their bright pink skate guards with a smile – one that faltered as she was reminded of the stakes at hand.

Looking back at her phone to check the time, she noticed a short text from Alya wishing her luck. She smiled, sending her back a few happy emojis. After another few moments of stretching out and walking on the spot, Marinette collected herself and made her way into the hallway, deciding to get a feel for her blades in a brisk walk before eventually making her way to the ice. She knew where she could find Cheryl so she could pass over her bag to her and receive the time-honoured pep talk. Until then in her hand she was picturing herself on ice, remembering each jumping pass and imagining her landing every single one perfectly. _It will be fine_ , she chanting over and over in her head.

“Watch your edge on your Lutz,” said Cheryl.

 _It will be fine_ , Marinette breathed, her throat running dry and constricting.

“Try a couple for your warm up, and don’t worry, just focus on getting used to the ice.” Cheryl continued, “Don’t push yourself.”

Marinette nodded. _I can do this. I can do this,_ she affirmed made her way towards the rink.

 _It will be fine_.

_Right?_

 

* * *

 

It was not fine. Nothing was fine.

She stood at center ice, hands shaking, her chest heaving already, as desperately tried her best to hold her starting position. But nothing felt right, her face small smile that was suppose to give off an air of serenity, felt forced and unfamiliar. And worst of all she could feel it. She felt everyone’s eyes on her as she stood there, tiny and cold on the ice. The judges, the audience, her coaches, Chloe Bourgeois and…

Adrien Agreste.

He was here and everything was wrong, it was awful. And she couldn’t spot him out from the sea of people. It made it almost worse, because Marinette knew – she just _knew_ – that out there the great Adrien Agreste was out there watching her skate.

And she was angry.

Just before the group warm-up all but 20 minutes prior, Marinette had stood, nervously waiting alongside the other skaters for their ice time. Just a little ways down the boards from her, the two Russian competitors stretched out, totally in their own world. The other skaters, the two Japanese skaters, cheerfully stood by, talking to each other and holding each other’s hands. Still wearing her gloves and jacket, Marinette smiled softly in their direction as she fiddled with her hands, trying to keep her mind relaxed. She took off her gloves, bundling them into a makeshift stress ball, focusing on her program and trying not to look up into the stands and the audience’s expectant stares.

The moment was interrupted suddenly by a loud, dissonant laugh from behind her.

 _Chloe_.

Marinette sighed in annoyance, stuffing her balled up gloved into her jacket pocket, about ready to tell Chloe off for being so loud when everyone was trying to focus. But just as the thought crossed her mind, she reminded herself that doing so probably would most likely do no good. Chloe did what Chloe wanted, and she almost always got her way. It would only serve as another distraction, one that Marinette could not afford to stack onto her worried and chaotic state of mind.

Finally the announcements began, introducing the event and alerting the skaters that it was time. The group gathered near the entranceway on to the ice, each girl reaching for their blade guards with their respective coaches hovering nearby.

Marinette reached down to remove her bright pink guards from her skates. As she removed them, something suddenly felt wrong, a weird and gross tacky-ness that made one of her guards more difficult to take off.

Looking down at her left skate she noticed a string of some sort of plaster or resin coming off her skate blade. Puzzled she reached down, seeing the source of it had been caked into the groves of her guard.

As her hands came into contact with the gunk, a chilling jolt of realization ran through her –

 _It was gum_.

Panicking slightly, and ignoring the peals of laughter from behind her, Marinette wiped her hands instinctively on her jacket. _Gross, gross, gross_ , she thought as she turned to Cheryl, eyes wide.

“Do you have any tissues?!?” she asked.

Cheryl immediately handed her some from her bag, with a look of sympathy, “Oh Marinette what happened?”

“I – I don’t know,” she answered, having taken a few tissues from her coach and working on cleaning off her skate blade, “There’s – just, um – there’s g-gum on my blade!”

As she continued to clean off her blades the boards were opened, inviting the skaters onto the slick surface, accompanied by the announcer introducing the skaters.

The other skaters began to make their ways onto the ice, leaving Marinette behind as she worked to clean off her skate. The tissues were able to remove most of the gum, but remnants of it still remained coating the edges of her skate. She tried to scrape off as much as she could, but even then the tissues just ended up sticking to the surface making chunks of tissue-gum.

“That’s good enough for now, honey,” Cheryl patted her shoulder, “You just go out and do your warm-up, we can clean it up after.”

Marinette nodded, carefully handing Cheryl her skate guards and used tissues as she turned to the ice.

As Marinette placed a skate on the ice, testing the effect of the gum on her skate, a voice spoke out from behind her.

It was Chloe again with a disgustingly saccharine and overly flirty giggle that had Marinette internally gagging.

“Thanks again for the gum, Adrikins!” Chloe exclaimed loudly, “You’re the greatest!”

 _No…_ Marinette thought. Thinking back on Chloe’s continued cold treatment towards her today and her annoyingly loud gum chewing. No way would Chloe sink that low, _would she?_

Turning around with a frown Marinette looked up at her training mate with an angry frown.

But before she was able to form any sort of response to the situation, Marinette’s eyes caught on the figure standing beside Chloe.

Adrien Agreste.

_Adrien Agreste._

He was standing right next to Chloe, with an adorable, yet confused look on his face. He was dressed in Gabriel designer sportswear, the signature “G” in a circle imprinted over his chest.

Also standing next to Chloe was the redheaded girl from earlier. Her arms were crossed and she was snickering, joining Chloe in her ridiculing behaviour.

“Really Adrien, I’m so glad you could make it! It so nice to have you here to support us in this _sticky_ situation.” Chloe continued, waving a hand in Marinette’s direction, a smug smile on her face as she looked at Marinette, eyebrows raised with a challenge in her eye.

Marinette took a few seconds to absorb the situation. Fighting back the immediate reaction to blush at Adrien’s presence, the pieces of the puzzle seemed to land into place before her.

“Oh…” she said meekly, looking down at her skate, “I get it…”

It was some sort of sick prank, wasn’t it? Her anger seemed to melt into just plain sadness, the harsh furrow in her brow fading into disappointment and defeat. How inappropriate and ill timed… or was it some sort of sabotage at Marinette’s expense? How could Chloe do this?

Adrien stood there, not really sure what was happening.

“I – what?” he looked from Marinette to Chloe, not understanding.

“Yeah… I get it, very funny…” Marinette continued, sarcasm dripping off every word, masking her utter embarrassment and humiliation.

Chloe and the redhead jeered.

”No – no! I – “ he tried to reply, most likely with an excuse, but Marinette didn’t wait to hear it. Huffing, she turned; pushing herself away from the conversation, now was not the time. She needed to focus.

She glided across the ice, feeling a little bump from the bits of gum still left on her left skate blade. Circling around the ice, trying to get a feel for it, Marinette tried to empty her mind of the whole mess that had just occurred.

 _Don’t focus on it, Marinette_ , she told herself. She twirled here and there, switching from forwards to backwards skating, pushing into the ice and testing its surface.

Out of the corner of her eye, she noticed Chloe also nearby, flawlessly landing a triple flip.

Shaking her head to try to escape her worries, Marinette practiced a spin, going into a layback position and trying to find a steady point to focus on.

As her head tilted back in the spin she caught a glance of Adrien Agreste watching from the boards.

Faltering out of her spin, Marinette pushed on, trying not to let them get the better of her. This was a mind game, and she would show them that she could win.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eep! This chapter became way longer than initially planned, so prepare yourselves! It's a three parter! I'm going to head back into my volleyball fic for a bit but i'll be back, and oh man am i excited!!! IT'S JJ STYLE!
> 
> Been watching some national championships... great stuff! Hope you all are doing well! Thanks for reading!
> 
> Check me out on tumblr for previews and more miraculous ladybug madness!  
> powerdragonmoon.tumblr.com


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